


He Belonged

by semperfortis



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: A little bit of angst, Episode Tag 2x08, Gen, Porthos deserves more love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperfortis/pseuds/semperfortis
Summary: "Porthos should have known better. Fairy takes are just that. Tales. Nothing true about them." A look into Porthos' thoughts on the journey home in 2x08.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	He Belonged

Porthos wasn't sure how he was meant to feel. He thought that once he knew his father's identity he'd be at peace. But as he rode away from the Marquis de Belgard's estate, Porthos felt as if he would never rest.

There was a part of him that wished he had never found out about Belgard. And another part of him couldn't help but wish de Foix was his father, as he had first thought. There was also a small part of him that wished he hadn't grown up in the Court of Miracles but in a safe and happy home with a loving family.

However, a much larger and rational part of him was grateful and accepting of the man his childhood had helped him become. If he had grown up privileged and as the heir of Belgard, would he be the man he is today?

Even so, Porthos had to admit he wasn't pleased with his own behaviour these past few days. How could he have mistrusted the Captain? Treville was like a surrogate father, not only for him, but for the entire garrison. Treville was a just and honourable man, and Porthos should have remembered the Captain would never have accepted him if he didn't truly belong. People often questioned the presence of some Musketeers in the regiment. In his early days, the ever charming Aramis wasn't considered a proper, respectable man fit enough to be a Musketeer. Likewise, Athos, the drunk, was not deemed to be worthy of the pauldron. Young d'Artagnan's lack of recommendations and experience were seen as his faults. But all three were Musketeers because they always have been, regardless of whether or not they wore the pauldron that symbolised their brotherhood. They belonged. And Treville knew they did.

Porthos should have remembered that he belonged too. The Captain had always been able to see that. Questions had been raised about Porthos' appointment in the regiment as well, but time and time again, had he not proven Treville's judgement to be correct? Had Treville not encouraged him to be the best Musketeer he could be? Porthos shouldn't have forgotten that he belonged. Of course he did.

As they made their way back to the garrison - to home – there wasn't much chatter. There was a quiet companionship during their homeward journey but Porthos wasn't able to enjoy it. He thought of how his brothers must be ashamed of him. They took him back with open arms, as he knew they would, but he felt that by taking off the fleur-de-lys they all wore so proudly, he had essentially abandoned them. As he grew up, Porthos told himself he didn't need to know his father's identity. However, at the slightest chance of finding him, Porthos had left all that he held dear to fly after the hope that his father would live up to the noble fairy tale he used to believe in.

Porthos should have known better. Fairy tales are just that. Tales. Nothing true about them. It was the present which mattered. And he had thrown it away when faced with the opportunity of piecing together the puzzle of his past.

At least he knew the truth now. Porthos had always believed that nobility did not come from blood, and today he had been given further proof of his conviction. No matter how noble the name, how grand the estate, legitimate and pure blood meant absolutely nothing when it came to being a noble man.

Porthos was more than ready to leave Belgard and his poisonous thoughts behind and look to the future with his loved ones – his brothers in all but blood. The Musketeers were his family. The garrison his home. The leather pauldron with the fleur-de-lys was his identity.

He was a street rat. An orphan. A brother. He was the Musketeer Porthos du Vallon. He would never forget that.

**Author's Note:**

> Porthos is one of my favourite characters from The Musketeers - I wish we saw more of his stories on the show. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this little piece. Please do let me know what you think. :-)


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